At the End of the Day
by LovingMusicLivingLoud
Summary: One-shot series: Life in Hollywood is great. They love it all; the fame, the glamor and the luxurious lifestyle. But at the end of the day, all that really matters is each other.
1. OneShot 1

**I know, I'm an idiot.**

**But I couldn't help it! This idea has been in my head, and if I didn't type it up I was going to go insane. I know, it's pretty dumb to start a new story when I haven't updated my other stories in so long – and I apologize for this. Not only do I have very little time, but I also am experiencing a very long, very frustrating case of writers block.**

**Which is why I have decided to make this into a little oneshot series, instead a continuous story like my others. I will update when I have time, so please don't pressure me! BUT REVIEWS ARE WANTED. Really. My other stories barely have any, it's quite depressing. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the character in this story, nor am I am affiliated with Disney Channel. The only thing that is mine is the story, which I do so hope you will enjoy **

She stood on the beach, the wind gently playing with her soft curls. The sun broke through the clouds, giving her skin an angelic glow, adding shimmer to the bronze gown she was wearing. The water from the ocean crept up the shoreline, the cold water just barely touching her heels. Her eyes widened and she gave a little yelp before grinning at the man in front of her, holding a camera.  
"That's great, Gabriella. You're gorgeous, babe!" he called to her.

She smiled again, as another flash went off. "Thanks, Javier."

* * *

"CUT! Great job, guys, that's a wrap."

Troy sighed in relief, letting the fake gun drop the floor. Every muscle in his body screamed in protest as he stood from the chair in the faux interrogation room. The lights flickered on and the camera crew bustled about.

Martin, the director, approached Troy. "Good job man, those stunts were great."

Troy nodded in thanks, making a mental note to never attempt his own stunts again. Next time, he would allow the stuntman to actually do his job.

His entire body ached. He wanted to lie down on the cold, concrete floor and sleep for a while.

He wanted to soak himself in a nice, hot bath.

He wanted to stuff himself silly with greasy junk food.

More than anything, though, he wanted her.

* * *

He pulled up in his shiny black Mercedes, stopping at the ridiculously large black gates which blocked entry down the ridiculously long driveway which led to the ridiculously large mansion.

He sighed. He had forgotten the damn security code again.  
Ridiculous.

He pulled out his cell phone, holding down the number 1 speed dial. It rang only once before she answered. "Are you on your way home, babe?"  
He couldn't help but smile at the sound of her voice.

"Actually, I'm right outside…"

She giggled. "And what's stopping you from coming in, babe?" she asked, though she had a pretty good guess.

"Oh, well, I was just admiring these gorgeous black gates. They're really a nice touch, you know."

"I know. But why don't come in and admire the nice touches _inside_ our house?"

_Our house_ . Their house. He smiled to himself. _Ours. Theirs._  
What nice words.

" Baby…" he whined into the phone.

She sighed. "18390556385."

"Oh, of course. How could I ever forget?" he asked dryly.

She giggled quietly. "Babe. It's been a more than month."

"Yeah, well, not all of us have super genius brains."

"It doesn't take a genius to memorize eleven numbers in thirty days, Troy."

He grumbled a response as he punched in the numbers. The majestic gates swung open to reveal the even more majestic house. _Their _house.

He parked the car in the driveway and stumbled inside the house. "I'm home, baby!" he called into the depths of the large mansion.

A high pitched squeal echoed throughout the house, getting louder as she neared him. He felt a grin growing on his face.

Suddenly, a small figured slammed into him and he stumbled backwards with the impact, grinning wildly.

"Hey baby," he crooned, winding his arms around her tiny waist.

"Hi yourself," she said, her cheeks flushed as she wound her hands around his neck.

He led them down the hall to sit in the shiny parlor, on the soft sofa. "I missed you," he told her, laying his head on her shoulder. She ran her delicate fingers through his hair.

"Long day?" she asked quietly. He nodded against her shoulder.

"What'd you do today?" he asked her.

"Photo-shoot," she mumbled into his hair.

"Oh? How's Javier doin?" he asked, referring to the photographer, who had grown close to the couple.

"Good… just, upset…he still hasn't found someone."

Troy nodded sympathetically, "that sucks."

Javier was gay.

Living in California wasn't easy for him, and finding a partner was even harder.

But amongst the shiny, plastic people of Hollywood, Javier had found true friends in Troy and Gabriella.

During high school, basketball had been Troy's only passion.

Until his girlfriend had lured him into the world of theater.

The first time he looked in her eyes, he knew he liked her.  
The first time he kissed her, he knew he was falling in love.  
The first time they made love, he knew he couldn't live without her.

Similarly, the first time he acted onstage, he knew he had found a new home in the world of theater.

And so he had gone on to become one of America's biggest stars. Troy Bolton posters were stuck to walls across the nation, and young teenage girls carried around folders with his face on them.

But he wasn't alone.

Gabriella had always loved the theater, and she too had followed her dream to act. She was likely the most famous starlet in the nation. She and Troy were easily the most famous couple in the country, probably the world, even. They were known as the 'power couple,' throughout Hollywood, and together, they were indestructible.

And they loved it all; the lights, the glamour, the fame.

But in the end, all that mattered was that he came home to her comfort.  
That she could fall asleep in the safety of his arms.  
That he could rest his head on her shoulder when the pressure of fame became too much.  
That she could hold his hand to keep from being swallowed up by the swarms of paparazzi.

In the end, all that mattered was each other.

**REVIEW. PLEASE. If I can get fifteen reviews, I can promise another chapter by next Sunday…;) **


	2. OneShot 2

**Ehh, thirteen reviews. Close enough. **

…**Would it be too ambitious to ask for another 15? It would make my day :) **

**Happy author = new chapter/update of other stories.**

**So really, it's for your own benefit ;) **

**Secondly, someone asked why this story was rated M…well, it's a series of oneshots, so I'm hoping to geta few M rated chapters in there. Speaking of which, is anybody particularly talented at these kind of scenes? Steaminess isn't exactly my forte. Let me know!**

"YES! YES! YES! YOU ARE THE BEST AGENT EVER! OHMYGOD, YES!"

"Ah, I see you need some time to think it over," Ricky chuckled.

"That sounds so fun! I would love –,"

"Alright, alright. I'll email you the script, look it over, let me know. Make sure to talk to Martin too."

"Does Troy know?" she asked breathlessly.

"Martin sent me an email, said he'd talk to him about it today…"

"That would be amazing! I mean, we've done stuff together, but never-,"

"Oh – Gabs. I'm getting a call from Harper," he said, referring to the auspicious magazine, Harper's Bazaar, "that should be about your photoshoot…"

"Oh, okay. I'll talk to you later?"

"I'll be expecting a call."

And with that, she hung up, grinning.

She couldn't wait to talk to Troy.

Troy slumped down in the driver's seat of the beaten car.

'_No, Martin, we don't need a stuntman, I can do my own! It'll be fun!' What was I thinking? _, he thought to himself.

He was tired, bruised and sore as hell.

Next time, he was doing a romantic comedy.

Suddenly, there was knock on the window. He looked up to see Martin standing outside.

He groaned as he opened the door and lifted himself out of the car. They were standing in a patch of deserted land outside of Hollywood, to film the "intense car chase scene in which hero – that's you, Troy – ends up flipping over his car with nothing but a small razor to protect himself, but manages to overthrow the villain – that's you Jason – using his martial arts skills," as Martin had described it.

And to think, Troy had been excited about stunts.

"Yeah?" he asked the director who was standing in front of him with a knowing smile.

"Well, first off, next time, I don't care what you say. You're getting a stuntman."

Chuckling sheepishly, Troy nodded.

"And second," Martin continued, "I have a deal for you."

"About a stuntman?"

Martin chuckled "No, T, a _movie_ deal. You remember me talking about my next project?"

"Yeah…the plot sounded great, amazing. …Wait. A-a- are you offering me a role?" Troy asked, stunned. It was honor to work with the famous director once, but twice? That was unbelievable. Martin Meyers was known everywhere as King of Movies.

At home, he had two closets. One for his clothes.  
And one for all his awards.

"Only if you promise to never attempt your own stunts again."

Troy was too excited to be embarrassed. "Thank you so much, sir! I'm honored –,"

"There's more."

"M-more?" Another opportunity to work with the legendary director, offered by the King himself? How could it possible get better? Troy was bursting to tell Gabriella, she would be so proud, so happy for him…

"We want your girl too."

Troy's jaw hit the sandy ground.

"W-w-whaaa?" he could barely comprehend how amazing this was getting.

Grinning, Martin continued. "You two are set to play the lead roles – if you accept, that is."

Troy nearly laughed at the last part, but he couldn't quite get his vocals to work.

"Well," Martin said after five minutes worth of shocked silence from Troy, "That's a wrap for today. Your agents should have sent you the scripts. Read it over, let me know."

Patting Troy on the back, Martin turned around, heading back to the camera crew, a grin still on his face.

After forty-one years in Hollywood, Martin Meyers was used to making dreams come true.  
And he still got the same satisfaction every time.

"Baby! Gabriella, I'm home!" he called into the large foyer of their mansion.

No answer.

He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was five-thirty. She was supposed to be home by now.  
Hmm.

He wandered through the enormous building that the called home, towards the study.

He stopped upon approaching the large glass doors.

She was sitting in the large, vintage (and expensive) vintage style office chair, her feet up on the glossy wooden desk, talking on the phone.

Wearing nothing but a pair of black lace panties and short silk robe.

He opened to door quietly and stepped in, making his way towards her. He took a seat on the desk in front of her, taking her delicate feet in his hands. She beamed up at him, and he grinned down at her as she continued her conversation on the phone.

"Sure, sure I can do that….uh huh. Yeah. That works. Yeah. Okay…no, thank _you!_," he smiled at this. She was so sweet., "okay! You too…bye."

After hanging up the phone she looked back at him. "That was Harper's Bazaar."

He nodded, lifting one of her feet to his eye level and inspecting it closely. She giggled as she watched him scan over every inch of her foot, from her smooth heel to her perfectly polished toenails.

She let out a small yelp of surprise when he suddenly popped her large toe into his mouth. "Troy! What are you doing? It's my _foot_."

He shrugged indifferently, continuing to suck on her toe. She nudged his cheek gently with her other toe. "Weirdo."

He raised his eyes to her, taking the opportunity to take in her image. She sat so comfortably, her soft dark waves of hair cascading down her shoulders flawlessly. Her eyes twinkling in mirth, her cheeks rosy with blush and her face glowing.

She was beautiful.

And she was all his.

He was rich, he was good-looking and he was world famous.  
He would be lying if he said none of this ever went to his head sometimes. Of course, Gabriella always brought him back down to Earth.

One look at her and he was instantly humbled. She was so sweet, so kind, so talented and so _flawless_ that he often felt undeserving. He was incredibly grateful for his career, and his fans – he had preached this many times during his acceptance speeches.

But words couldn't describe how grateful he was for her.

Which reminded him…

He released her toe from the confines of his mouth, revealing a very shiny, very wet toe. She teasingly nudged his cheek with it, swiping some of his saliva from her toe and onto his cheek. He wrinkled his nose.

"Does Bolton have an issue with a bit of his own saliva on his face?" she teased.

He placed his hands on the arms of her chair and leaned down so that his close to hers. "I'd rather it be your saliva," he murmured huskily. She grinned.

He sat back up, taking her feet in his hands once again. "But first, I have news."

Her face lit up "Oooh! Me too!"

"You first," they both said in unison.

He chuckled. "Okay, me first then." She pouted adorably.

"I was talking to Martin today…about this new project he's starting…."

Her eyebrows rose.

"….and he wants the two of us to be in it! Together!"

She giggled at the sight of him. He was so excited, his face flushed and his arms waving about. He noticed her amused expression and stopped, frowning.

"Are you not excited?"

"Oh! No, baby, I am….I was just watching you – but yes, I _am_ excited. Trust me."

"Then…I mean, when I told you, I expected you to have more of a reaction…you know, jumping up, running around the house…?"

She giggled at his pout. "I already did that, babe."

His confused expression made her giggle again. "Babe, Ricky called me while you were at work today."

His expression showed his understanding, and he nodded, standing up and offering his hand. She took his hand and stood also, so that he could wrap his arms around her waist. She gently gripped his biceps and leaned into his chest. They remained in that position, letting the news sink in together.

"Can you believe it?" he finally whispered into her hair.

She looked up at him, her eyes dancing with excitement. "I know," she murmured. "I am so excited to work with you, baby. This is gonna be _amazing_."

He nodded in agreement. "Did you already read the script?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No…I wanted to wait for you…you know, so we could do it together. I mean – I know, we've both done lots of movies, but I figured that since this is our first one together-," she was cut off by him placing a finger to her lips.

"Baby, I am _so_ glad you waited. I was hoping we could do this together." He reached behind her to push the chair so that it rolled towards the opposite desk that held a large, sleek computer.

He walked over and sat down in the chair, pulling her down to sit on his lap. He let one arm comfortably wrap around her wait while he used his free hand to navigate the internet to their email page. He quickly located the file that Ricky had sent Gabriella, and slowly clicked on the link.

They held their breath as the file loaded, and Gabriella let out a small squeal of excitement when the page finally popped up on the screen.

Troy rested his chin on her shoulder, gazing intently at the screen.

And with that, the two of them began to read.


	3. OneShot 3

So. Zanessa. Huh.

**My thoughts:**

**First off, wow. I honestly did not see this coming. I mean, they were cuddling it up just a few weeks ago. And I was depressed. Like, really depressed. My favorite couple had ended after**_** five years?**_**  
That was my second thought – how can you let something go after **_**five years together?**_

**According to some "source", the relationship just 'ran it's course.'**

**Bull-sh*t.**

**But guys, we need get a perspective. They're not the same people they were a few years ago. The two have achieved unbelievable fame. And, quite frankly, I think it's gone to his head. Lately, he's started appearing, well, cocky. I LOVE the two of them as a couple, but separately? Ehh.**

**So if they stay separated, we need to accept that they're not perfect – they're not who we wish they were. And their business is **_**theirs.**_** I'm honestly a bit embarrassed that I was so affected by this break-up. I always thought of myself as an independent person, and I'm usually not affected at all by these Hollywood love stories. I need to focus on **_**my**_** life, not theirs. Hell, I don't even **_**know**_** them.**

**That being said, a source in People Magazine said that they're 'still close, and reconciliation shouldn't be ruled out.' Fingers crossed! (: **

Troy walked down the hallway of their home, clutching a stapled packet of papers in his right hand, and his Blackberry in the other. He made a sharp turn towards the elegant spiral staircase, running upstairs two at a time.

He walked briskly past the rooms lining the second level, stopping at the door at the end of the hall. He opened the door, and stepped in, stopping short at the sight before him.

Gabriella was curled on the floor, sobbing. Hearing the door close, she whipped her head up. Her eyes were blood shot, and her porcelain cheeks were soaked. "Get _out,"_ she hissed, her eyes narrowing.]

"I- what? What happened?" He knelt down beside her, offering his hand, but she only slapped it away.

"Shut up. Just _shut up._ I'm n-not an idiot. I know where you were."

He gulped. "You d-do?"

Tears continued streaming down her cheeks as she stared at the wall behind him. "I should have seen it com-coming. I was never good enough for you," she hiccupped.

He frowned, "What are you talking about?"

"I know all about your little affair."

His faced took on a series of expressions – first confusion, then understanding. Then guilt.

"Look, babe-,"

"Don't call me that," she whispered, her voice utterly broken.

He winced. "I guess we should talk…"

* * *

Across town, a man in a shiny office picked up his ringing cell phone.

"Meyers speaking."

"Hey Martin, this is Ricky, I'm Gabriella Montez's agent."

"Ah, yes. How are you?"

"Good, good. You?"

"Fine. Listen, what'd she think of the offer?"

Ricky chuckled, "She accepted immediately. She was thrilled."

"Good, so was Bolton. Do you know if they checked out the script?"

"Yeah, I just got off the phone with her. They're actually rehearsing lines now."

"At home?"

"Yep."

"Huh. Impressive. You know which scene?"

"Actually yeah, they're trying out one from the beginning. The part where she accuses him of cheating. Page 33, I think?"

Martin glanced at the neat packet on his desk, flicking through pages until he reached 33. He scanned the page, his eyebrows raising with interest. "Huh. This one's a toughie."

Ricky chuckled, "Yeah, well, I actually gotta go. Just wanted to let you know she's on board."

"Alright thanks. Bye."

With that, Martin hung up. He leaned back in his seat, smiling to himself. They were actually rehearsing their lines _at home?_

Now _that_ was dedication.

* * *

"I guess we should talk…"

As soon as he uttered the words, a grin broke out on her face. She stood from the floor, and he stood too, wearing a grin to match hers.

"Troy, that was great! I mean, you were just, wow. You actually looked guilty."

He chuckled. "Thanks baby. And you! You were just…fantastic. But it broke my heart to see you like that."

He wrapped his arms around her waist, bending his head to kiss her tears away. When he decided her face was clear, he pulled back.

"So," she started, "Celebratory dinner?"

He grinned widely, his eyes lighting up.

She smiled sweetly. "C'mon," she said, tugging on his head. He followed her out of the room, flicking the lights off on the way.

* * *

Ten minutes later, they were situated in the enormous kitchen. Troy hopped up on the central island, watching her as she wandered around the glossy kitchen. She returned with thick cookbook in her small hands. She sat down on a stool in between his legs, so that she was eye level with his belly button, and began flipping through the pages.

"What are you in the mood for?" she asked absently, scanning the pages.

When she received no reply, she glanced up to find him grinning cheekily. "What?" she asked, genuinely confused. He closed his lips into a sealed smirk, shaking his head.

"Troy, tell me!"

"Well…babe, from where I'm sitting…and where you're sitting…"

"Yeah?"

"Well, it kinda looks like you're gonna blow me…," the cheeky grin resumed its place.

She rolled her eyes, but then took on a smirk of her own, slowly raising her eyes to look at him. "Do I?" she asked, her tone suddenly low and seductive.

He gulped.

"Y-yeahh."

She stood up, so that she was standing between his legs. He threaded his fingers through her hair, pulling her head forward. Their lips met, massaging eachother's slowly.

He pulled back slightly, sticking his tongue out to trace her lips with the tip, keeping eye contact as he did so.

Her lips curved upwards, and her head dipped to bury her face in his neck. She took the flesh there in her mouth, sucking harshly.

His eyes closed in bliss. "Mmm…Gabbb…," he drawled out.

She nipped at his skin, then soothed over it with her tongue, making him moan quietly. His arms tightened around her waist, and he tilted his head back to allow her more access.

She slipped her dainty hands under his hands, to massage his abs. Just as she pushed her hands further upwards towards his heartbeat, Troy's phone rang.

He groaned in annoyance. She removed her hands from his shirt and pulled back, and he whimpered at the loss of contact. She leaned forward to kiss his cheek, whispering in his ear, "Answer it."

He sighed dramatically before reaching across the island to grab his cell phone, keeping one arm securely around her waist.

He pressed the phone to hear. "Yeah?"

"Bolton, it's Chad."

"I know."

"Wha – how?"

"My phone has superpowers."

Upon receiving silence, Troy rolled his eyes and continued. "What do you want, Danforth?"

"Geez, you sound pissed off. Either Gabby finally dumped you, or I'm interrupting someone's sexy time." He was grinning, Troy could practically see it.

"The second one, you moron. Now, if you'll excuse me, I was just about to score with my girlfriend…"

Gabriella snorted beside him, and he glared playfully at her.

"Wait! – Dude, it's important."

Troy sighed. "Yeah?"

"Martin just announced a cast meeting – dinner at Fire Bowl."

"When?" Troy asked, pulling Gabriella closer to him.

"Uh, now."

Troy whined loudly, and Gabriella dropped her head onto his shoulder.

"Sorry, dude, I know you were about to get some…,"

Troy rolled his eyes. "Can I bring Gabs?"

Gabriella raised her head to look at him questioningly.

"Sure," Chad replied, "I think Martin would like that."

"Alright, we'll be there soon."

After hanging up, Troy looked up at Gabriella. "Looks like tonight's activities have been rescheduled."

**Well, I originally planned this as a one-shot series, but it's looking like more of an actual story. I can't seem to help myself! Well, lemme know whatcha think!**


	4. OneShot 4

"Shit man! What the hell am I supposed to do?" exclaimed a very frustrated, very panicked James Selvin.

"Uh, tell her," replied a very tired, very bored Edward Granger.

Troy walked into the trailer, followed by Chad. They had just started the last scene of the movie, and were on break.

"What's wrong?" Chad asked, upon noting the panicked expression of James face.

"He saw some paparazzi picture of him feelin' up a girl at a club in People," Edward said, referring to People Magazine, "and his girl's gonna be pissed."

Chad chuckled, and Troy frowned.

Their attention fell on the iPhone resting on the table, as it began to spaz, the loud ringtone filling the air. James' eyes widened. "Shit! Shit, shit, _shit!_ It's her! What the fuck am I supposed to tell her?"

Edward and Chad shrugged nonchalantly, Troy remaining uncomfortably silent. The phone continued to ring, the only sound in the trailer.

Suddenly, the door opened and Tanya, one of the makeup artists popped her head in. "I need Chad and Ed now," she informed them, her voice just barely heard over James' obnoxious phone. Without a word, Edward headed out, Chad following after giving James a comforting pat on the back.

When the door closed, the phone fell silent.

Two seconds later, it began blaring the same ringtone.

James buried his face into his hands. "Shit, she's pissed." Troy stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to say. He had been in Hollywood for a while, he knew the life.

He knew that James wasn't a bad guy.  
He knew that half (probably more) the actors in the city of fame had put their hands on a woman who was not theirs.  
He knew this wasn't a big deal – that 'releasing pressure' in a club was considered normal.  
He knew all of this.

But _still._

He had adapted to many aspects of the Hollywood lifestyles.

He wore suits that could pay for a car.  
He drove a car that could pay for two houses.  
He lived in a mansion that could pay for a country.  
But he had never, ever been unfaithful to Gabriella.

He simply couldn't comprehend deceiving her, _hurting_ her like that.

James raised his head to look at Troy. "Dude, what should I tell her?"

Troy didn't quite know what to say. He didn't want force James into telling the truth, but he definitely didn't want to encourage lying. Finally he mumbled, "I dunno," and shuffled out of the trailer.

Sighing, James turned to the phone that was having a heart attack on the table. He reached for it, pressing the button and holding it up to his ear. "Hey, babe..."

"What fuck is this?" her voice demanded on the other line.

"What are you talking about?" he feigned innocence.

"I saw this picture online, you and some slut in a club! What the fuck, James?"

"Oh, babe, I saw that. It's not what you think, I swear. I was just trying to push her outta the way – she wouldn't move – cause I wanted to get outta there."

"You promise?"

"Yeah. I promise."

* * *

Miles away, Gabriella was sitting in a directors' chair in the middle of a small desert – the same one, in fact, where Troy's movie had been shooting a few weeks previously. She was wearing a tiny, red velvet dress that hugged every curve in her body. Her stilettos and dark red lipstick completed the look, her classy and seductive look a complete contrast to the barren surroundings.

Which was basically the point of the photo-shoot.  
Javier was taking picture after picture as she posed, as one of the editing directors of Harper's Bazaar looked on.

John, the photo-shoot supervisor –also a Harper's Bazaar correspondent- stepped out of the trailed a few yards away. "What time's Bolton getting here?" he asked.

"He should be here in like, five minutes," mumbled Javier as he adjusted the camera on the tripod. Gabriella smiled to herself. Last week, she had and Javier had been talking about the photo-shoot, since Gabriella liked to have some inputs on her projects. Originally, there was going to be a male model, but Gabriella had asked Troy if he would be up for the job. She was thrilled when he said yes.

Of course, she had been in countless photo-shoot with shirtless male models – all of them beyond good looking, but she had never expressed an interest in them. She was polite, and interacted with the models as she was instructed to during the shoots, but it ended there. She belonged to Troy, and that was that.

* * *

Troy glanced at his iPhone as he headed towards his sleek BMW. There was a message from Javier asking when he would be there. He typed a quick reply and slipped into his car. Once situated in the driver's seat, he leaned back and shut his eyes.

The encounter with James had left him uncomfortable, and just witnessing James handle unfaithfulness like it was nothing made Troy feel dirty in some way.

Suddenly, he couldn't wait to reach Gabriella. He opened his eyes and started the engine.

* * *

Ten minutes later, a small dust cloud a good distance away alerted the photo team that someone was approaching quickly. John used his hand to shield his eyes from the desert sun as he squinted at the growing dust cloud.

"It's probably Bolton," Javier muttered, without taking his eyes off the camera lenses. Hearing this, Gabriella immediately sat up straighter, eager for her boyfriend to arrive. Javier's prediction was confirmed when the dust cloud parted to reveal the black BMW. It screeched to a stop and the door flew open. Without acknowledging anyone else, Troy stepped out and speed walked over to where Gabriella was seated.

Everyone, including Gabriella, noticed the change in his usually laid-back and friendly demeanor. As he approached, she stood to meet him. Upon reaching her, he didn't smile or murmur a hello. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her roughly to him. Slightly surprised by his sudden roughness, Gabriella didn't say anything as he lowered his head to capture her lips.

The kiss was long and hard, and Gabriella could feel his desperation. She pulled back to look at him questioningly, but he had no chance to answer as John called out, "Alright let's get Troy ready and then get this thing started!"

The hair team swarmed the couple, picking at Troy's hair and combing it back, mussing it up until it gained the desired look.

"Let's go!" John called, and the hair team broke up as Javier took his place in front of the camera. Troy sat down in the director's chair where Gabriella was originally seated, pulling Gabby down onto his lap. He let her adjust herself on his lap before wrapping his arms tightly around her waist and looking straight at the camera.

As Javier continued snapping pictures, Gabriella turned her head slightly to face Troy, keeping her eyes on the camera at all times. "What's going on?" she whispered, her lips barely moving. Troy shrugged, resting his chin on Gabriella's shoulder.

Just being with her, reassuring himself that neither of them had ever been unfaithful to the other, gave him such comfort that he felt himself starting to relax. Apparently, Gabriella felt it too, because she turned her head back to grace him with a soft smile.

For the first time that day, he smiled back.

* * *

Sorry for the wait.  
Please review.


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